


Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, baby.

by autopsydoe



Category: Chronicle (2012)
Genre: M/M, Sometimes I write actual trash and give it to the world, THEY'RE IN LOVE x2, This is chill whatever, i'm a bag of bones when it comes to stuff, its just another fluff fic i guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-30
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-06-05 09:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 605
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6699103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/autopsydoe/pseuds/autopsydoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve gives Andrew a questionable nickname, and it takes Andrew a really long time to ask him about it because he's a muppet child.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, baby.

(Written in the perspective of Andrew Detmer)

The first time the words left his lips, I thought he was talking to someone else. I had been startled by the way he looked at me, his eyes were the softest I’d ever seen them, he placed his hand on my shoulder and I could only blink in response. I had never been regarded in such a way, but I took it and held it close. He smiled at me, and for a small moment, I believed he meant it. ‘’Baby,’’ he beckoned affectionately, ‘’don’t leave.’’ 

The second time he said it, I was hanging off of the side of my bed. I was reaching for a book that I had thrown in a fit of laughter, and he grabbed my wrist just before gravity could snatch me downwards. It slipped from his mouth, hiding hushed humor, turning my cheeks an awful pink. ‘’Baby, you’re so off-balanced.’’

The third time he said it, we were hovering 30 yards above the ground and he was taunting me. The word was as sweet as honey as it graced his tongue, but his words stung as they met my ears. I smiled at him, regardless. ‘’We have all of this power and you’re acting like a child.’’ he quipped, ‘’I guess you’re my baby, then.’’ 

The fourth time, he was lying in my bed with his clothes littering my floor. My door was locked and shut, but I lingered by it. I listened for the heavy footsteps of my father to meet the hallway that led towards my bedroom; I waited to be caught. ‘’Nothing’s gonna hurt you, baby,’’ he told me, and the anxiety that ruled in my chest was smothered by something unidentifiable. I moved away from the door towards him, silently giving in. 

The fifth time, we were sitting on the roof of his house. We were looking out at his suburban neighborhood, watching the lights in houses flicker out as the streets flourished in ghostly, yellow lighting. I am leaning into him and I listen to the soft thump of his heartbeat. ‘’I could spend all night out here with you, baby,’’ he tells me, and I almost reply, but the words never come. 

The sixth time, it’s over the phone. It’s midnight and I’m falling asleep as he speaks to me about his history homework. He grumbles, his voice accompanied by a slight static, ‘’Go to bed, baby, before you die from exhaustion.’’ I clicked the end call button after a hummed agreement and smiled into my pillow, a hopeful feeling rising all around me.

The seventh time, it’s between kisses and Matt is calling Steve’s cell phone. ‘’Baby,’’ he gasps, his left hand blindly reaching out for the humming device but I silence him, rolling my hips into his, ignoring the call entirely. 

The eighth time, I am drowsy with medication as I lie against his chest. I’m mumbling incessantly, but he runs his fingers through my hair and lazily agrees to my nonsense, ‘’Whatever you say, baby.’’ 

The ninth time, Matt is rambling about the questionable philanthropy of the human race as Casey writes quickly on her notepad. I do not know if she’s listening to him, but Steve pulls me away from the confusing couple, ‘’Let’s get out of here before he notices she couldn’t care less, okay, baby?’’ 

The tenth time, I question him. ‘’Why do you keep calling me that?’’ the words feel strange as they leave my mouth, as if I weren’t supposed to say them. 

‘’Because,’’ Steve replies, cupping my cheek. ‘’You’re my baby.’’ 

And I stop counting.

**Author's Note:**

> Who knOWS


End file.
